


Let's Make Our Own Home

by Hell_Again



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Drabble, First War, M/M, Multi, Romance, Sad, Short One Shot, very very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 23:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20105284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hell_Again/pseuds/Hell_Again
Summary: Sirius and Remus' balcony, a sad scene, pausing the war, exhaustion creeping over them both.





	Let's Make Our Own Home

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little piece of writing.

It was cold outside, the air was crisp and one could almost feel it’s edges on their skin.   
It was dark outside, the sky clear and full of stars that one would never even glimpse in the city.   
It was nearing midnight and it was quiet, it was all sharp edges and soft sounds.   
It was Remus Lupin’s favourite type of night. 

And because it was Remus Lupin’s favourite type of night, it was Sirius Black’s favourite too. So there they stood. The two of them standing pressed up against each other. Both wishing for kinder times. Both taking relief in the momentary lapse of responsibility. Both clinging to each other, because they needed to cling onto something. Everyone did nowadays. If you didn’t have something to cling onto, you slipped away. You fell between the cracks and when you didn’t have the strength to pull yourself back up, it was almost impossible for anyone else to. If you didn’t have something or someone to cling onto, you drifted into the darkness, into the war. It was easier and easier to retreat, even while firing spells and defending your people. It was easier and easier to fall into it. 

So they clung onto each other. They stayed up far too late. They spent too much money on alcohol, and too much time on drinking it. They wasted nights they should be sleeping, by standing outside on their balcony. Arms wrapped around waists and shoulders. Hands in hands. Breathing out puffs of smoke as they smoked too many cigarettes. Wasted their lungs on smoke and screaming. Wasted their throats on choked sobs and too warm drinks. 

But none of it was a waste to them. It was the only way to cope. Hanging onto each other more than the alcohol or nicotine. Hanging onto each other more than the lives of themselves. Hanging onto each other more than avenging the deaths of the dead. The dead were dead and neither of them could promise that they didn’t wish they were the same way. They’d talked about it. To each other. Remus had said how guilty he felt, always guilty, he should be dead instead of them, but he didn’t do enough. He wasn’t enough. Sirius had said how maybe the universe was trying to make him just like his parents and their parents and their parents, maybe he was destined to hurt people too, he shouldn’t endanger anyone. He was too much. 

But with comforting words and promises backed up with no facts, they assured each other that they were doing as much as they could for the right side. They were doing whatever they could. The were part of the Order. They were going on all the missions people asked of them. Neither of them believed it. But neither of them didn’t. So they stayed in a strange limbo of living. Hanging onto life by threads that were steel on some days, and silk on others. Hanging onto life by fitting together in an embrace that was altogether too rough. Not enough and too much clinging together fiercely. 

So they stood on the balcony they owned. Remus with an arm around Sirius’ shoulders, cigarette in the other hand. Sirius with an arm around Remus’ waist, clutching a beer in his other hand. It was the best home they knew. It used to be Hogwarts, but here was close enough. School couldn’t be home forever. Adults didn’t belong there, and as much as they hated it, that’s what they were now. There was James, Lily, and little Harry’s of course, but that wasn’t their home. Not really. There was Peter, but his apartment wasn’t home either. They had never adjusted as well as the other part to their friend group. So they came to the catch ups, and they hugged, and they loved. But it wasn’t home. Always carrying too much of their past with them. Always carrying too many emotions with them. 

There they were, a perfect photograph in other times. But now it was just them. Two lonely boys, adopting each other’s favourite things. Seeking comfort in one another. Finding solace in the dark, crisp nights. Clinging desperately to whatever — whoever — they had left. 

Grasping onto a life barely worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This was just a short thing I wrote in the car, I hope you liked it. 
> 
> My email is orleuad@gmail.com if you want to contact me :)


End file.
